


I just got lost (waiting 'til the shine wears off)

by juxtapose



Series: Must've Done Something Right (We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Nothing actually happens in this oneshot, Sexual Tension, Slash if you squint, You don't have to squint a lot though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months post-'Avengers.' In which Tony Stark gives a little advice he didn't know he had in him, and Steve Rogers seeks out help from the one person he never dreamed he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I just got lost (waiting 'til the shine wears off)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay. I am iffy about this one, but I figure it may as well be posted somewhere should anything happen to my (brand new) computer somewhere down the line. I will fully admit that all my knowledge of these two characters is derived from their respective film adaptations; I haven't read a single Avengers comic as much as I'd like to (and hopefully will). I'm usually very wary about venturing into new fandoms with my writing, and this is no exception. Feel free to be as harsh about this as you like. I should warn you--this oneshot hasn't really much to it at all; it was basically my way of patching up what I thought was a kind of shoddy way to leave off the Steve/Tony dynamic in 'The Avengers'. I wanted to see them connect a little more, and, well, this happened. Please bear with me as far as any tiny details I may get wrong. I am fairly new to this 'verse. Try to enjoy? DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Title is from Coldplay's "Lost!"

“I’ve decided,” Tony Stark’s voice echoes matter-of-factly throughout the (newly renovated) top floor of Stark Tower, “today is going to be a good day.”

Through shining (eco-friendly!) glass, he peers out onto the busy, bustling Manhattan streets, resting his eyes after a morning of analyzing design plans. He plops down onto the couch, feet up on the coffee table, which he knows a certain Pepper Potts wouldn’t be too thrilled about, since she picked it out, and Tony’s got to admit, it’s nice as coffee tables go. But where else is he to rest his feet? Being an engineering genius, a millionaire, and occasionally Iron Man when necessary is a lot of work.

“Indeed, sir?” is the chipper reply of JARVIS, who really does seem genuinely interested, “Is today the Big Day?”

The grin Tony’s been wearing all morning falters a little; he can almost hear the All-Caps of Importance in JARVIS’ tone. Which says a lot, considering he’s, well. A computer.

In spite of himself, Tony reaches into his jean pocket, clutching tightly at the small black box hidden there. It feels heavy, almost terrifyingly so, but Tony Stark doesn’t scare so easily.

 _I have a shrapnel threatening to make its way to my heart and sometimes I fight bad guys in a suit of iron. Marriage? Easy-peasy_ , he reassures himself, though his sweaty palms and furrowed brow seem to protest.

The girl in question is off at a meeting, because as it happens, being promoted to CEO of Stark Industries (not necessarily in name--though however she tried, Pepper never really did "quit" in every sense of the word) does, in fact, keep one quite busy. Tony sighs a little, choosing to leave JARVIS’question unanswered for the time being. Partially because he’s unsure of the answer himself.

He’s about to pull up more design images as a welcome distraction when the computerized voice cuts in once again: “Viewing Security Camera 3. It appears you have a visitor, sir.”

“A what, now?” Tony sits up on the couch. “Whoever it is, tell them I--”

“It’s Steve Rogers, sir. Shall I let him up?”

Tony stands so abruptly he almost loses balance, clearing his throat sharply. “Um, yeah. Sure." _What the hell is Cap doing here?_ He tries to ignore the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, anticipatory and jumbled, as the loud _ding_ of the elevator indicates his caller’s arrival.

The doors slide open, and Steve Rogers steps gingerly onto the floor, eyeing his surroundings with a combination of curiosity and confusion. “Well,” he says in lieu of greeting, “Now that I’ve seen the interior, I can definitely say Stark Industries really is a lot different from when I saw its beginnings--”

“I think that might have something to do the fact that it it's been, oh, seventy-ish years,” Tony interjects flatly.

Steve looks as if he‘s fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I also noticed you decided not to renovate your name at the top--all I saw when I biked up here was the ‘A.‘“

“Mm, yes. I feel like the tower needed that touch of simplicity. What’s in a name, anyway?" Tony sits again, gesturing for Steve to do the same. “How goes it, Vintage? What brings you to my 93-story neck-of-the-woods? Want a drink--oh." He shakes his head a little, a thought occurring to him: “This isn’t a Superhero Boy Band thing, is it? If Nick Fury is sending _you_ to do the round-up then clearly--”

“No,” interrupts Steve, “I came here on my own.” He casts Tony a tired glance before sitting down wearily in a chair adjacent to the couch. He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, a few strands of blonde hair falling in front of his eyes.

Tony narrows his gaze. The one thing he knows full well about Steve Rogers--besides the fact that he’s a lab-made super-soldier with an affinity to all things red, white and blue--is that he’s assertive. Determined in every move he makes. Confident. A leader.

Tony Stark does not see any of this in Steve Rogers today. Which, if anything, is just plain interesting. So he presses on: “I take it you didn’t come here for a tour. JARVIS could probably give you one, though. In all seriousness.” He leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s been three months since Loki’s Tesseract Palooza, Rogers. Missing me already?”

This gets a small smile out of Steve, and Tony grins smugly at his minor achievement. “The thing is, after we completed S.H.I.E.L.D’s mission, I went off to, well, see the world. Or, rather, figure out how much I’d missed of it.” He reached into his coat pocket. “I even got one of these strange wireless telephones.” He pulls out his cell phone, waving it around in front of Tony’s face. “See?”

Tony nods seriously, resisting the urge to laugh. “A flip-phone. That is genuinely adorable.” _I can’t wait to show him my iPhone later. That’ll throw him for a loop._

“Anyway.” Steve shoots a perturbed glare at Tony before resuming his narrative, “I traveled quite a lot. Made some new acquaintances, experienced new things, until I decided I wanted to come home. It was only when I got here I realized I don’t really have one.” There is something Tony thinks is sadness in Steve’s aged eyes as he speaks. “I mean, I have an apartment to go back to but it’s not . . . it’s not home. And I realized that just like many of the soldiers I used to know, I can’t go back home. They couldn’t because they died. I can’t because I may as well have. I _am_ dead, back in my time. Alive in this one.”

His words are somber--too much so for Tony’s liking. He wants to lighten the mood with a snarky comment or a joke, but something stops him from doing it; a tiny voice in his head beats loudly within the corners of his mind, biting at his consciousness, and, oh, son of a bitch. Tony wants to _help_ Steve Rogers much to his own utter chagrin. He wants to offer some kind of advice to the man, or at least a gesture of support, but all that requires _feelings_ and Tony tends to avoid even touching those with a ten-foot pole.

So instead, all he can manage are four words: “So you came here?”

He regrets the question as soon as it tumbles from his lips, and even more so upon seeing Steve’s expression give way to something like disappointment. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m intruding, Mr. Stark. I just thought it would be nice to see a familiar face. Even if it’s one that doesn’t particularly like me very much.”

Sitting up abruptly and mimicking Steve’s stance, Tony can almost feel the electromagnet in his chest struggling to keep up with his heart. For some reason, Steve’s words have ignited something in Tony, in their cold formality and in the fact that they are so very far from the truth. Why this puts him off so much, Tony can’t say, but he can’t resist to retort, “False, Cap. I mean, if I have to work with _anyone_ in protecting the world from hostile other-worldly forces, I may as well settle on a relatively useless guy in blue spandex. The possibilities for jokes are _endless_.”

Steve barks out a laugh, though he doesn‘t sound particularly amused. A sudden glint flashes across his eyes, and Tony knows he’s touched a nerve. “You know, you really are a piece of work.” He stands, throwing his hands up. “It’s no wonder Fury had second thoughts about associating you with the Initiative.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Now it’s Tony’s turn to raise his hands in mock-surrender. The _nerve_ of this guy! “Listen, Old-School. Here’s a fun fact: us present-day folk? We can handle a joke or two. Throwing jabs at me isn’t going to solve any of your problems.”

“That’s what it always is to you, isn’t it? A joke. Something tells me we've had this _discussion_ before." He steps forward, towering over Tony, who stands to meet his stare. “You’re nothing but a child.”

“I’ll show you a joke in about ten seconds, _Captain_ ,” Tony seethes, reaching behind him to the remote control for his armor on the coffee table, “How long does it take for you to throw on that flimsy suit? Or did you drop it off for dry-cleaning?”

“Stark, so help me God--”

“I’m sure you _will_ need help from the Big Guy Upstairs in a few moments--”

Tony is barely able to finish his threat when he finds himself pinned against the wall, Steve’s obnoxiously burly arms on either side of him. Instinctively, Tony had lifted a defensive arm across Steve’s broad chest, and now the two stand mere inches apart, breathing hard and all but fuming at each other like steam engines wild off their tracks.

Tony finds himself leaning in closer, so his lips graze Steve’s ear. “You do realize, ol’ Cap,” he murmurs, and he feels Steve’s muscles surrounding him tense further, “I was just trying to rile you up. And all you do is feed. Right. Into it.” He draws out every syllable, cocks his head to the side innocently as he peers up at Steve (Cap's got a few inches on him, a fact Tony really hates to be reminded of), whose jaw is clenched with pent-up frustration bubbling at the surface.

A painfully long silence tumbles in then, neither man opting to move from his respective too-close-for-comfort position. Steve’s eyes are blue ice, glaring daggers into Tony’s own hard gaze (blinking is overrated, anyway). Tony can practically hear his blood pumping erratically through his veins, thinks he is close enough to feel Steve’s very pulse--

And then JARVIS cracking through the quiet: “Should I prepare tea or coffee, Mr. Stark?”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “ _Really_ , JARVIS? _Really_?”

“Apologies, sir.”

The abrupt break in the tension of the room leads Steve to step back and rub his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Tony tries not to let his relief visibly show, but a sigh escapes his lips nonetheless. Another awkward silence fills the room, which Tony is glad for as he takes the opportunity to sort out his jumbled thoughts, until Steve is the one to finally speak:

“The point is, you were right before, you know.” Steve’s enraged stare has gradually moved to a quiet downcast gaze at the hardwood floor. “I’m just a lab experiment. I’m an experiment, and I’m out of my time. Out of my element. I don’t belong anywhere. _That_ isn’t a joke, Mr. Stark, as much as you or I would like it to be.”

Tony blinks, fishing idly for a good comeback in the depths of his brain, but anger, fresh and new, takes over instead, coloring his senses violent red. He isn’t sure why he’s so upset, or why Steve’s words this morning have had such an effect on him, but before his speech can catch up with his thoughts, he all but yells, “Whoa. No, no. No. See, that’s just _it_ , Rogers. That’s your problem. You’re losing yourself, because you don’t think you have a _self_ to lose in the first place."

“Um. What?" Steve furrows his eyebrows in genuine confusion, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“Look, I’m trying to be all deep and psychological here, so keep up with me. When I was messing with you just now, there was that . . . I dunno, that _spark_ in you again, that determination. It wasn’t there when you showed up at my place today, but there it was again just now. Not to say that anger is the only thing to bring it out--we’ve already got a Hulk to take care of anger management for the both of us and then some.” He watches Steve dip his head a little, clearly trying to hide a small smirk. “Anyway, look. I’m only going to say this once . . .”

His words stop short, in surprise of their own meaning. Tony clears his throat, averting his eyes to the ceiling. “I was wrong, okay? You’re not . . . you’re not just an experiment. You’re Captain America, man. You’re a legend. I saw that when we fought against Loki’s army. And I see it now. We didn't exactly get along all the time, but when it came down to it, I understood that."

He can practically feel Steve’s eyes on him, and oh, hell. Tony Stark is _nervous_. What gives? “You just got a little lost, a little low. You’re not in Kansas anymore. You’re in, like . . . futuristic Kansas. Which isn’t always a walk in the park. And let’s just say I know a little something about being . . . out of place.” He taps the electromagnet in the center of his chest, which glows a bright blue. “So, basically. You don’t have to, y’know, walk the streets as the Lone Patriotic Ranger."

“What you’re _trying_ to say is," Steve adds, tilting his head a little--and Tony kind of wishes he hadn’t met the man’s look again, because it’s warm and blue and _shining_ and if the electromagnet wouldn’t blow a gasket about it Tony’s pretty sure he’d be experiencing a few skipping heartbeats right about now-- “that I’m not alone."

Tony makes at nonchalance, shrugging. “I guess. Now sit down, Rogers, and seriously. Have a drink.”

“It’s . . .” Steve glances at his watch. “Eleven forty in the morning.”

“At Stark Industries, it’s always 5PM. Remember that.”

Steve laughs, genuinely this time, and it ignites a smile in Tony himself as he starts over to the bar. He reaches over to clap Steve on the shoulder, when the sensation of Steve’s hand on his arm gives him pause. Oh, _crap._ Steve’s looking at him with the infamous Captain America Stare of Intensity. It’s mesmerizing.

Tony awkwardly lowers his hand and Steve clasps it tightly in his own, squeezing. “Thanks, Stark. Really.” He smiles. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” Tony practically chokes out, trying to no avail to keep his cool against the Steel Stare of Doom, “Didn’t realize you wanted a drink this much--”

“Oh, shut the hell up.” Steve shoves him lightly. “You know what I meant. I guess it turns out Iron Man is a pretty nice guy when he wants to be.”

Tony puts a finger to his lips. “I, for one, have _no_ idea where you got that impression.”

“Right. Of course.”

And then it happens, just like that. They have a drink or two, talking, reminiscing about the first assembling of the Avengers Initiative, about Howard Stark and his role in both their lives (a touchy subject, no doubt, but the way Steve sort of looks at Tony with honest, understanding eyes tells him maybe it's all right), about what it’s like to be a couple of super-freaks in an already super freaky world. Time seems to shoot by in surges and droves, and Tony doesn’t feel any of it because he’s so wrapped up in _clicking_ with this guy he thought he’d hated from the get-go.

“You know,” he says a little later on, “You could stay here if you wanted, until you got yourself settled. There is a particularly nice guest suite on the 32nd floor.”

Steve smirks. “I might take you up on that. If you don’t mind.”

And Tony really, really doesn’t mind. He finds he’s doing the _opposite_ of minding; in fact, he’s just a little more than thrilled to have Cap stay.

As he’s pouring another drink for himself and Steve, he bumps his hip against the table and feels the sharpness of the black box, still sitting expectantly in his pocket. He pauses, biting his lip, before taking out the box and shoving it in the back of a drawer, his face hot.

It hits him then. He reaches into his other pocket, checks his phone. Pepper hasn’t sent him a single text all day, which is not unusual lately. Their busy schedules have caused them to drift apart, and Tony, in a spur-of-the-moment thought only a month previously, had thought marriage would fix all that.

But maybe it wouldn’t.

Tony peers over at Steve, who is gazing down the Stark’s-eye view of Manhattan, expression alight with wonder. And Tony understands that it’s this guy, this perfectly out-of-place, ridiculous, spandex-wearing defender of justice, is the one person Tony’s managed to make an effort to really care about besides himself.

Tony cares about Pepper. Sometimes he’ll admit that he cares about saving the world and all the annoying people in it. He cares about Stark Industries, and even about all the mismatched heroes he’s met through S.H.I.E.L.D. But there’s one in particular that outshines them all, and Tony knows why. His earlier anger had been perpetuated not out of self-interest, not out of the fact that Steve had been mocking him, calling him a child.

But of the fact that Steve didn’t realize just how important he was. And for some reason, that had been the driving force in Tony’s actions: to prove Steve wrong. To step outside his own comfort zone to remind Steve that he’s . . . a hell of a guy.

Oh. _Feelings_. The thing Tony hates most about them is how they are quite often very strong, and very unexpected.

JARVIS hadn’t been wrong. Today has been a Big Day, but not the Big Day either of them had been expecting. But Tony finds that it all worked out just fine in the end. Because today, he realized he’s got a lot more self-discovery ahead of him, and now he knows he’s not alone in it.

“Yeah. Today,” he says as he joins Steve at the window, enjoying the view of both the city below and the man’s reactions to it (like a kid in a candy store, wildly innocent), “is a really good day.”


End file.
